


Hoodie Season

by chronosaurus (kimnamjin)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Bang Chan is Whipped, Bang chan as an emotional comfort boy, Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Chan’s closet - charatcer, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Featuring a funky SeungSung interlude, Feelings Realization, Felix steals Chan’s hoodie, Fluff and Mush, M/M, Remember when chan posted that vid of his closet lol...., Sappy, SeungSung are little shits, Seungsung best chaos boys we love to see it, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Some Humor, This takes place in winter, and then chan realizes he’s in love with him, back at it again w the cliche titles uwu, bc i wrote this in February lol, but mostly during the seungsung part, cozy vibes, falling asleep and falling in love, felix has red hair here, gratuitous descriptions of black clothing, post-nap fluff, realizing you’re in love, skz love chan, that partly inspired this fic as well hehe, this is cute i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimnamjin/pseuds/chronosaurus
Summary: “Do you wanna know why your clothes help me sleep?”Chan nodded, all words still gummed up in his brain and untranslatable. Felix’s smile widened before mellowing on his lips. “Because it smells like you.” He said, simply. Simple, like the plain stitching on Chan’s hoodie.Chan’s bottom lip quivered for reasons unknown to him. Or maybe they are known to him. “What do I smell like?”Felix pretended to think, pursing his lips and tapping a hoodie-engulfed finger to his chin. It's obvious to see he already had the answer poised on his tongue.“Love.”Or: Chan’s favorite hoodie abruptly goes missing, but after some hard hitting detective work—in the form of Chan traipsing around their dorm like a lost (and cold) puppy—the culprit is finally caught.And when Chan finds the dastardly hoodie-thief, well….he suddenly doesn’t miss the familiar sweatshirt, for much longer.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han & Kim Seungmin
Comments: 57
Kudos: 781





	Hoodie Season

Chan’s closet is a joke.

****

Not a joke as in poorly organized, or barren, or generally hard-to-decipher before schedules. 

****

A _literal_ joke. As in it’s something their fans poke fun at all the time.

****

It’s something the _members_ joke about on a weekly basis.

****

_“I failed my math test,”_ Jeongin bemoaned recently, after coming home scorned and red-faced from school. _“If anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing in The Void.”_

****

The Void, also known as: the pet name the other strays have given to Chan’s closet. 

****

Why is it called such a thing? Simple. It’s pure _black,_ akin to the vacuum of space. Every garment hanging neat on the wire hangers is black, with nary a change in hue. Black, black, and more black. _That_ is Chan’s closet. Of course, Chan has a pile of “spring colors” tucked away in a pile in the corner of his wardrobe. It consists of mostly grey (or “light black”, as Changbin calls it) and white, but Chan _does_ wear real-deal color! _Sometimes._ He swears he has navy joggers and a scarlet red blouse folded up in there! Even some yellow numbers, to boot! Except, _everyone_ associates Chan with black clothing.

****

As if some new wave goth of the generation, Chan and his fashion are synonymous with the absence of color. He would argue his status as an _“emo icon”_ as their fans so flatteringly call him, but one look within the bowels of his armoire and all Chan’s protests die in his throat. 

****

Alas, when you thrust open the flimsy door to Chan’s closet, what are you greeted by? 

****

Black on black on black.

****

Literally. Black blazers with black tees nestled within the lapels to save space. Black jeans with ripped knees and black cable knit sweaters hang limp over a hanger, with the ankle hole of one garment hardly discernible from the head hole of another. 

****

And Jeongin did just what he said he’d do that day—he chucked his backpack into the living room, made a bee-line to Chan’s room, and without another word he threw open the door to his closet. And then? He...well….Chan doesn’t really know.

****

All he knows is that Jeongin didn’t emerge from Chan’s room until dinner began to take shape in the living room; his eyes clearer and his skin free of ruby cheeked embarrassment. 

****

Chan had no clue as to what Jeongin did, and he was too scared to ask. _It's comforting in there,_ the maknae has said before, in passing. _It smells like you._

****

Chan couldn't even attempt to unpack such a thing. So he didn't. 

****

_“Look who’s coming out of the closet!”_ Jisung teased with a snicker, at the sight of Jeongin padding into the kitchen.

****

Their youngest scoffed, and rolled his eyes. _“Dude, you’re literally the gayest one out of all of us. And that’s saying something.”_

****

Jisung shrugged, and chose to smooch Minho’s cheek instead of refuting the claim. In turn, perhaps confirming it.

****

That was three days ago, and Chan is starting to notice some _things_ about his closet. 

****

For one, Jeongin made his line-up of shoes all askew. Chan had to spend a good five minutes putting boots back with their mates, and righting toppled sneakers. He’s going to have a talk with their baby about proper upset-closet-dwelling etiquette. Or maybe Jeongin can find _other_ ways to cope, instead of holing himself up on the floor of Chan’s closet, and thus sending Chan’s perfectly-paired combat boots flying into his loafers. 

****

What else? His favorite hoodie has gone missing. It’s black (unspriginsly) and around 3 sizes too big; even on someone as muscular and broad as Chan. It’s simple. Simple stitching and simple lining. Waffle knit cuffs and a messily snipped tag sewn to the back of the neckline, frayed from Chan’s poor attempt at shearing it off. It’s mundane, and arguably the most replaceable piece in Chan’s entire armoire. In fact, the simplicity of the hoodie is _why_ it’s Chan’s favorite—he’s never been one for garish bells and whistles, or for ostentatious displays of status through fabric and embellishments. 

****

It’s not designer, or opulent, or clipped with a hefty price tag, but it’s _special._ It’s soft, and warm, and _insulating._ Which is _exactly_ what Chan could use on a frosty night in Seoul. 

****

And it’s _missing._ He swears he saw it as recently as yesterday, hanging pretty on a hanger! And, yeah, it is admittedly a challenge to find specific items in Chan’s monochromatic wardrobe, but he could find that hoodie _anywhere._ With just one stroke of the fleece shell, he’d know. But it’s gone! He tore his whole closet upside down and inside out, and it’s nowhere to be found! 

****

He _did_ find a starched black dress shirt he’d been looking for, with an embroidered crest above the right breast. He snatched up a pair of black training pants he’d been desperately searching for as well, and tossed them onto his bed for dance practice the next day. But his favorite hoodie? Still very much MIC; _Missing in Closet_.

****

Chan’s lips pursed into a pout, as he clawed his way out of the morass of black fabric piled up on the floor of his wardrobe. He’s not looking forward to reassembling his closet into some form of cleanliness again, but he’s _desperate_ to find his hoodie. He’s freezing his ass off in the drafty halls of their dorm, with the papery walls doing little to keep the winter chill at bay. 

****

A black circle scarf that Chan didn’t even know he owned mired around his thighs, as if sentiently begging him for attention. He grabbed the accessory and tossed it back into its home without so much as a look at the label. 

****

Maybe his hoodie isn’t in his room? Chan is often forgetful, what with the modest hours of sleep he gets every night. It _is_ possible he left it somewhere in the dorm while in a sleep-deprived haze. 

****

Chan softly shut the door to his closet with little issue, after toeing the heap of monochromatic apparel back into the confines of the wardrobe. He’s _really_ beginning to dread opening that door again, for fear of an onyx avalanche swallowing him whole. 

****

But that’s a problem for later. Right now? Now Chan’s priority is finding his goddamn hoodie. Preferably _before_ he freezes his balls off. 

****

He slipped from his room and into the hallway. The dorm is relatively quiet, save for the muffled chorus of GOT7’s _You Calling My Name_ seeping out from under Hyunjin’s door. Chan couldn't help but crack a smile, as he sent the dancer’s room a knowing glance. 

****

Chan pressed onward. 

****

As he padded closer to the living room, he began to pick up sounds of life. A fanciful, bubbling soundtrack. Cartoon car engines revving and sputtering. 

****

Seungmin and Jisung are currently engaged in a heated Mario Kart battle; both boys sitting cross legged on the hardwood floor, eyes narrow and laser focused on the video game on the tv. There are decimated chip bags scattered around their legs, crumpled until only the metallic foil innards are visible.

****

Chan winced at the crumbs sprinkled across the floorboards. The floorboards that he painstakingly swept clean _yesterday._ Chan sighed, heavily. The work of a leader is never done. 

****

“Hey boys, I need to as—”

****

“Can't talk now hyung, trying to cream this bitch.” Jisung murmured, gesturing over at Seungmin with a curt nod of his head.

****

Chan’s brows furrowed in distaste, as he placed two hands on his hips. “Jisung! No calling Seungmin a bitch!” 

****

Seungmin seems unperturbed, as he calmly pilots his pink Princess Peach car down the track. Perhaps he's so unfazed by Jisung’s trash talk because the idea of the rapper beating him is nigh _impossible._

****

And calling the round _heated,_ now that Chan thinks about it, is quite the misnomer. 

****

Chan stole a glance at the placement chart on the side of the screen: Jisung’s cherry red cart—helmed by the titular Italian plumber himself—is in dead _last._ Even the AI is leaving him the digital dust. Seungmin is in a more respectable 2nd place, only edged out by Donkey Kong.

****

“We literally call him a dog as a nickname! By that logic, I'm legally allowed to call him a bitch.” Jisung argued, keeping his hard gaze trained solely on the banking turn coming up on the map. His fingers deftly pressed buttons and toggles alike in manic succession, yet his rank did not increase. 

****

“I don't think that's how it works.” Seungmin said, evenly. “If that were the case, since we call you a squirrel, does that mean we can put you down if we think you have rabies?” 

****

Jisung somehow managed to escape last place for a few triumphant seconds, until Luigi overtook him in the blink of an eye. The rapper’s lips curled in a snarl, seething in place as his car chugged along in time with his ministrations on the controller—now back in dead last place. 

****

“Alright, I _know_ you're trying to get me to make another ‘ _I wanna be euthanized’_ joke, but it's not gonna happen!” Jisung used one hand to point an accusatory finger at Seungmin, while the other fiddled with the gaming controls. “I left morbid humor in the last _decade,_ Minnie. Plus, I go by _quokka_ now, so if _anything_ I'm endangered and you should _protect_ me—” 

****

Chan's eye twitched, as his paternal instincts kicked into overdrive.

****

“Kids!” Uh oh, his boys know they've _really_ done it once Chan breaks out the _“kids”_ reprimand. You see, deep within Chan’s brain is a lever marked _‘Dad Mode’,_ which he only discovered since becoming leader of Stray Kids _._ And because of the two boys on the floor, that switch just got _flipped._

****

Seungmin and Jisung _finally_ pried their collective gaze off the video game, and looked to Chan. For around half a second, until they returned to the match with a tandem, noncommittal grunt for the leader to continue. 

****

Chan rolled his eyes, but realizes this is the best he's gonna get. 

****

“Have any of you seen my favorite hoodie?” 

****

Seungmin at least had the decency to pretend to ponder. “The black one?”

****

“Dude, _all_ this bitch’s clothing is black.” 

****

“Jisung!” Chan bellowed, “no calling _me_ a bitch!” 

****

It's going to be one of _those_ days, it seems. Chan should’ve just stayed in his room, chest deep in his veritable dragon’s horde of black apparel. It was warm in there, too.

****

Jisung giggled, which is _never_ a good sign. His fingers flew across the joy-con, as he drawled, “But your nickname is a wolf. Wolves are technically just fancy dogs, hence why I can call you a bi—”

****

“That's _it!”_ growled the leader, already up to his eyeballs in irritation. He just wants to find his hoodie, so that his world can return to working order. Is that too much to ask? Yes, apparently, when you've inadvertently (or perhaps very advertently) adopted a pack of rowdy teenage boys as your own. 

****

Chan felt the metaphoric key in his head jam even deeper into the ignition marked _‘Dad Mode’._ Chan is in full-on fatherly rage right about now, and he made a mental note to punish Jisung with the only penalty that _truly_ strikes fear into his heart; _no cheesecake for a week._ Jisung will be lucky if he even gets a packet of fruit snacks during dance practice break tomorrow. 

****

Chan took a mighty step forward, mock-lunging at the power button for the video game console. Jisung and Seungmin yelped in terrified unison, their controller-clutching hands paling. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” Jisung squeaked, his voice rising octave by octave as he begged Chan for mercy.

****

Not like Chan wouldn't have been doing Jisung a _favor_ by cutting his less-than impressive round short, but he retracted his hand nonetheless. Because Chan, in his essence, is the biggest softie to ever live. _Especially_ for his boys. Even if they _do_ snatch decades off his lifespan on the daily. Chan huffed, as Seungmin and Jisung visibly relaxed in their places on the floor. 

****

“Now, have any of you seen my hoodie? Please?” 

****

“The one with the waffle knit cuffs?” Seungmin asked, suddenly eerily specific. 

****

Chan nodded eagerly, despite both boys still wholeheartedly invested in their match now that Chan’s prodding fingers are a safe distance from the power button. Not like there's any _real_ contest going on, of course. 

****

Now rather than horrified at the proposition of their game being cut off, Jisung’s expression mellowed. Now he looks nothing short of _mischievous,_ as he maneuvered his cart around an owl-eyed, smiling banana peel on the road.

****

He wiggled his eyebrows, as he said, “I'd check Felix’s room, if I were you.” 

****

Chan's lips pouted in confusion. _Felix?_ He thought, tilting his head at Jisung’s seemingly random advice. 

****

The leader shrugged, at no one in particular, and decided there's no use pressing the subject. He got as much of an answer as he could have hoped for, given the circumstances.

****

Speaking of which, Seungmin let a well-aimed Blue Shell rip from his peachy pink car. It circumnavigated the track, before striking its target clean on the side—Jisung’s car, still zooming along in last place.

****

“H-hey!” Jisung spluttered, as the Blue Shell made explosive contact. His car theatrically spun off the road, as the other cars crossed the checkered finish line with flourish. Seungmin came in 1st, much to Jisung’s (and Donkey Kong’s) chagrin. 

****

Chan deemed that his cue to leave; he snuck from the living room, giggling into the crook of his elbow. He snuck a quick glance over his shoulder, getting an eyeful of a furious Jisung clawing his way across the floor, after a cackling Seungmin. “How could you betray me like that, Seungmin!” Jisung shrieked, partly drowned out by the other’s wild laughter. Seungmin tried to roll away, but the rapper ultimately pounced on his target, and a merciless tickle fight ensued. 

****

They said nothing of Chan’s exit, but that didn’t stop the leader’s fond smile from widening. His boys may be a bit strange sometimes, but they’re _his._ His weird, wild, _lovely_ boys. He’ll gladly accept their antics any day, in spite of the exasperation it may occasionally cause. The happiness vastly outweighs any aggravation, without question. 

****

Soon Chan found himself standing outside a well-known door. Last room on the left, adjacent to the laundry closet. Felix’s shared room with Changbin. 

****

Although the other rapper is currently at the gym with Minho, and Jeongin is out (suffering) at school—which means Felix is left all by his lonesome. Chan felt a dull pang of guilt ring through his chest. He should have spent time with Felix all day, instead of digging through his closet on a wild-hoodie chase. 

****

With that thought in mind, Chan gently knocked his knuckles against the door with newfound determination. He waited patiently for a response, leaning his ear to the thin plane of wood. 

****

Silence greeted him, and Chan’s brows pinched in the middle. Jisung and Seungmin are still raucously going at it in the living room, but the pin-drop nothingness in response to Chan’s knock spoke volumes. He placed a tentative hand on the door knob, and turned the round of metal without making a sound. 

****

Chan slipped into Felix’s room, which is largely bathed in shadow. All the lights are turned off, save for the dimmed brilliance of Felix’s outdated table lamp. It sent pillars of muted gold through the room, landing most of the faded luminance on the lump cuddled up on the bed. 

****

The lump, which is swaddled in uncannily familiar black fleece. The lump, which is a peacefully sleeping _Felix._

****

Chan tip-toed closer, his socked footsteps imperceptible. Soon he’s at the side of Felix’s bed, gazing down at the slumbering form of his bandmate. Felix is curled up, with his knees scrunched up to his chest. His eyes are shut softly. Gently. _Peacefully._ His lips are tender to match, parted slightly as steady breaths flow from his chest. He has his arms wrapped tight around his torso, as if hugging himself—hugging the spotless black fabric flush to his skin. Tiny hands balling up the fabric. 

****

But the sight of Felix slumbering away is not why Chan’s breath skidded to a halt in his throat. All that air bundled up into a ball in his lungs _because_ of that swath of obsidian. He could recognize it anywhere; the simplistic stitching, the waffle knit detailing on the cuffs. The thick hood, which is pulled up over a head of bright cherry locks until only a few strands of feathery red poke out.

****

The mystery has been solved, just like that. 

****

_Felix_ is wearing _Chan’s_ hoodie. 

****

Felix is all but _cuddling_ Chan’s favorite hoodie as if it’s a security blanket. As if it is his only key to sleeping calmly. 

****

Chan gulped, unable to tear his wide-eyed gaze away. His hoodie—which is oversized on someone of Chan’s stature—all but swallows Felix _whole._ His slight figure is hardly visible through the draping of the black fleece. It reaches down to his upper thighs, cutting his grey joggers right above his folded knees. With the way the hood is pulled all the way up, Felix’s cheek is pillowing and squished against the fabric. The black mingles with his olive skin, reflecting diffused shadow across his freckles as it bounced off the light of his table lamp. 

****

Chan blinked. He blinked again, and felt his cheeks begin to warm considerably. He was chilled to the bone, but in the ambient humidity of Felix’s bedroom, sweat began to prickle under his t-shirt. At the sight of Felix swamped in that familiar fabric, Chan feels like he’s _roasting._

****

In his oversized hoodie, Felix looks so _vulnerable._ In his oversized hoodie, Felix looks like the _boy_ that he is. 

****

Felix is a celebrity. Felix is an idol with hundreds of thousands of fans around the world. Felix is _sought after,_ Felix is _wanted._ But as he hugs Chan’s hoodie to his body, as he sleeps curled up in bed devoured by the pitch fabric, he can be seen for what he _truly_ is. He’s a dancer, and a rapper, and an idol, but he’s also a _boy._ First and foremost, Felix is young. Albeit juxtaposed to his jawline, sculpted and carved and masculine, his cheeks are still rounded with pockets of baby fat. He’s barely out of the tender gates of his teenage years, he’s hardly traipsed past the fabled start line marked _adulthood._

****

Felix is a boy, and that’s never been as strikingly apparent to Chan as it is in this very moment. In the dusky lighting of his bandmate’s bedroom, as he sleeps soundly in his leader’s hoodie. 

****

Chan lost track of time, as he stared down at Felix with glossy eyes. He stayed planted at his bedside _far_ too long.

****

As if sensing Chan’s prolonged presence, Felix began to stir. His eyes scrunched and softened, rhythmically. The tip of his button nose twitched, along with the corners of his lips. He whimpered, as slumber bid him farewell. 

****

His eyes cracked open, and they instantly met Chan’s—what with how he’s standing dumbly at the younger Aussie’s bed. His eyes are bleary and slightly dazed from fatigue, but they brightened upon landing on the leader at his side. 

****

“Channie hyung?” He murmured, his already deep timbre rasping and husky. He released his arms from where they were wrapped snugly around his waist, bringing up a petit fist to rub at his eyes. 

****

Chan’s eyes widened, as his mouth opened and closed in rapid succession. “L-lix, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I—”

****

Felix chuckled, the laughter breathy and easy. He propped himself up until he sat on his knees, the hood falling off his head to reveal a mop of mussed scarlet hair. The cherry tresses are standing on end in every which way, swept off his forehead and begging for Chan to card loving fingers through the strands. 

****

“Don’t worry, hyung. You didn’t wake me.” Felix mused, a smile equally as genuine as it is sleepy tugging onto his lips. 

****

Chan is dazed; he doesn’t know what to say next. What to _do_ next. His brain is much too addled from the sight of Felix sleeping in his hoodie to piece together a sound course of action. But luckily for him, he didn’t even need to. 

****

As if reading his jumbled thoughts, Felix’s eyes suddenly slunk down: to the hoodie swallowing up his arms and his tiny hands and his chest. His gaze then snapped up to Chan, eyes now wide and clear and free from the residual fog of sleep that once clouded them. His freckled cheeks are blushing bright red, all the way up to his ears. The tips of his pointed ears are such a vibrant shade of ruby, it’s becoming difficult to see where his ears end and his messy scarlet hair begins. 

****

“H-hyung, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your hoodie!” Felix sputtered, cavernous voice wobbling and teetering on frantic. He waved his hands before him, the cuffs of the hoodie sitting just past his knuckles so only the tips of his little fingers poke through. If Chan wasn’t hypnotized before, he sure as _hell_ is now. 

****

Chan's _always_ been a sucker for good old fashioned sweater paws. _Especially_ on Felix, whose hands are small and dainty enough to be eaten up by any run of the mill jacket or blouse or cardigan. But sweater paws in _his_ clothes? Well, that's a fantasy Chan didn't know he wanted until right this very second. And now, his dreams have come true in the form of Felix Lee sitting neat on his bed, with those tiny little fingers peeking out from under the loose cuffs of Chan’s sweatshirt. 

****

Which reminds him—Felix is still speaking to Chan. Life is a realized dream, and one that Chan was never even conscious of conjuring up until now. 

****

“I, um, use it to sleep sometimes?” Felix continued, without further provocation. Perhaps he took Chan’s stunned silence as his cue. He raised his arms up, gesturing at the hoodie, and the garment hangs limp off his forearms like bat wings.

****

Chan tried not to let such a sentiment knock him off his feet. His knees stayed locked as he shoved a gulp past the lump of affection stopping up his throat, and said, “It’s ok, ‘Lixie. Y-you look...cute.” 

****

Chan didn’t mean to say it, he _really_ didn’t. But his self-awareness flew the coop as soon as he caught sight of Felix slumbering away. 

****

Chan readily admits to loving all his members equally, but there's _something_ about Felix he simply cannot explain. A draw—an _attraction._ Like twin magnets pulled towards the other. Perhaps it stemmed from their shared bond of a previous life down under. 

****

Perhaps it began when Felix first arrived at the company—clueless and innocent and _scared—_ and how he used to cling to Chan like the elder was a humanoid life preserver. Chan says “ _used”_ like Felix _isn't_ attached to his hip in the present day, despite his growing confidence in himself and his abilities. But it was _different_ back then, before debut. He remembers how Felix used to wrap his arms around Chan’s midsection whenever he felt nervous or judged for his Korean, and how he'd shovel his face into his broad back to hide his blush, or his tears, or both. A desperate grip not too dissimilar from how he was clutching Chan’s hoodie in his fists, how he was hugging it to his body with white-knuckle vehemence in spite of sleep. 

****

Felix has always been Chan's personal enigma. A living puzzle with blonde or lilac or strawberry red hair that is always _just_ out of Chan's capabilities of solving. But Felix keeps Chan hooked, keeps him salivating for more, more, _more._ More what? Chan couldn't even begin to answer. And maybe, that unexplainable desire is what makes Chan the most intrigued. Maybe, it's because of that desire that Chan's heart short circuited at the sight of Felix in his hoodie. 

****

And Felix is sitting prim and pretty on the bed, devoured by black fleece but still looking up at Chan with big, glittering eyes. Chan is completely, utterly smitten. 

****

Felix’s blush lightened, the color shifting to a glowing shade of rose. His smile returned to his lips, and his eyes began to sparkle like the stars in the cosmos. “I do?” He asked, coyly. Playfully; he just wants to hear Chan confirm it again.

****

And Chan is _nothing_ if not a sucker for Felix’s puppy dog eyes. He nodded, and added, “Yeah. _Really_ cute.” Much to Felix’s delight. 

****

_You should wear my clothes more often,_ Chan almost tacked onto the statement, but his common sense kicked in just in the knick of time. Although, perhaps he _will_ start sneaking some sweaters or graphic tees into Felix’s drawers. Just the stuff he barely wears, anyways. Stuff that surely wouldn't be missed, in favor of seeing it hanging off Felix’s shoulders and exposing the elegant dips of his clavicles. Chan almost keeled over at the mere _thought._ Yup, he's _whipped_ alright. How did it take him _this long_ to fully realize it, exactly?

****

The younger Aussie preened at the compliments, before wiggling over in bed. He patted the newly revealed sliver of duvet, motioning for Chan to join him. 

****

Chan, being the biggest softie in the known universe, wordlessly sank down to lay on the exposed slice of bedding. He feels numbed and dazed but he still shifted his body for maximum comfort, soon finding himself looking directly into Felix’s eyes as he lays opposite him. 

****

Felix’s coquettish expression eased, giving way to unadulterated endearment. His doe eyes hazed over, his plush lips held in a dainty little grin. He snatched up two handfuls of Chan’s t-shirt, and pulled himself closer to the leader. Tiny hands balling up Chan’s cotton tee. 

****

In a blink, Felix is nestled against Chan’s chest, his arms slung around his torso and his head nuzzling into the dip of his throat. As if on instinct, Chan wrapped his own arms around Felix’s tiny waist, and drew him flush to his body—until there isn’t even an inch separating them. Felix is warm from the inside out, and soft from the fleece of Chan’s hoodie. 

****

Chan asked, “Do you do this often?” _Use my clothes to help you sleep._

****

Felix nodded, his head bobbing up and down slowly, rhythmically, against Chan’s throat. The contact is inherently kitten-like, to the point where Chan wouldn't be surprised if Felix began to purr.

****

“All the time. Almost every day.” Said Felix, and Chan can feel the smile on his lips as it presses into the flesh of his neck. “I usually return your stuff before you find out, but,” Felix giggled, and it sounded like the spring breeze snaking through poplar branches. Or maybe Chan is just in love. “I guess this time I've been caught.” 

****

And caught he _was._ If Felix is Icarus, he flew too close to the sun on wings of oversized black fleece. Not like Chan isn't anything short of _intoxicated_ at the thought of Felix surreptitiously—and _regularly—_ swiping articles of his clothing for a quick nap. It's not like he'll be fastening a padlock onto his closet door anytime soon.

****

Tender, feathersoft silence cradled the boys in its palms, only occasionally disturbed by Felix humming in contentment into the column of Chan’s throat. His head fits perfectly there, under Chan’s chin and above his collar bones. 

****

“Do you wanna know why I stole your hoodie, when you were in the shower?” Felix asked once the nothingness grew monotonous, as he pulled away from the leader’s neck. He cocked an expectant brow as he gazed at Chan, his eyes impish and knowing. 

****

Chan is suddenly afraid. The beautiful kind of fear that always gives way pure, uninhibited joy. The electric kind of fear of being perched on a thousand foot drop on a rollercoaster, knowing full well you're about to take the plunge, whether you like it or not. And you _do_ like it. You like it so much you trip over your own feet going back for seconds. The addicting kind of fear, when watching lightning strike the earth during a thunderstorm. And _that_ is Felix Lee, boiled down to his most basic of quintessence. 

****

His stomach is flipping upside down and backwards, but Chan now realizes he isn't afraid. He's in love. 

****

“Do you wanna know why your clothes help me sleep?” 

****

Chan nodded, all words still gummed up in his brain and untranslatable. Felix’s smile widened before mellowing on his lips. “Because it smells like you.” He said, simply. Simple, like the plain stitching on Chan’s hoodie.

****

Chan’s bottom lip quivered for reasons unknown to him. Or maybe they are known to him. “What do I smell like?” Chan just _has_ to know.

****

Felix pretended to think, pursing his lips and tapping a hoodie-engulfed finger to his chin. It's obvious to see he already had the answer poised on his tongue. 

****

“Love.” 

****

That's it. That's _all_ Felix said, as if Chan is _somehow_ supposed to know how to make heads or tails of it. 

****

Chan doesn’t know what to make of that—what on _earth_ does love smell like? Chan thought, if _anything,_ he wafted the scent of stale cologne and dried sweat from dancing, but smelling of _love?_ He’s never heard of such a thing, and he was about to ask Felix what he could have possibly meant by that. Once again, the younger beat him to the punch. 

****

“You smell like comfort, and safety. You smell like roses and storm clouds and you smell like _love,_ hyung. Even when you’re all sweaty after practice, you still smell like love. Like _home.”_ Mused Felix, as he sank deeper into Chan’s gentle hold. He roosted his head back into Chan’s chest, his fire-engine red locks tickling the skin exposed by his loose tee. Chan has goosebumps. 

****

Suddenly Jeongin’s explanation echoed through Chan’s brain, after he left the leader’s closet three days prior;

****

_It's comforting in there,_ he had said with the utmost assurity, _it smells like you._

****

Chan is at a loss for words, but at least he had enough wits about him to mutter, “Thank you, Felix.”

****

It’s quite a compliment, Chan thinks. One of the most beautiful he’s ever received. 

****

Felix hummed, and buried his head into the crook of Chan’s neck. Within a few minutes of silence, his breathing has evened, as he returns to the velvety abyss of sleep. This time, in Chan’s arms. 

****

He was once chilled to his core, but now Chan is sweltering. The fuzzy kind of warmth of laying in the grass on a summer day, the tender kind of warmth of wrapping yourself in a sherpa blanket and snuggling up to a fire. As if he is the sun itself, Felix easily blocks out the stubborn bite of winter trying to sneak through the cracks in the plaster. 

****

Once in Felix’s presence, Chan can't feel anything _but_ warm. 

****

Chan stroked his thumb into the small of Felix’s back. Into the fleece of his hoodie. He leaned his head closer to the thick fabric of his hoodie, and sniffed in. He smells the slightly acidic musk of perspiration and the barely discernible fragrance of his newest perfume purchase.

****

Does he smell love? No. 

****

He moved up, and now huffed in a whiff of Felix’s mop of fiery red hair. He smells the artificial tang of his strawberry shampoo. And the note of sandalwood from his favorite clothing spray. And the bubblegum sweetness of the gloss on his lips.

****

The strands are still hopelessly sleep-ruffled from earlier, and Chan couldn't help himself from gently patting the locks down until they lay flat across his forehead. His hair feels like satin between the pads of his fingers, as Chan continues to card a tender hand through Felix’s dyed tresses. In spite of the harshness of the color, Felix’s hair stays silky soft and lustrous as it slips between Chan’s fingers. 

****

Chan reveled in Felix’s comforting aroma and the feel of his hair under his palm, and his muscles relaxed into the cushy mattress. His heart began to calm, as his own eyes grew heavy and sleepy. Suddenly, Chan isn’t too keen on getting his favorite hoodie back in his closet. Suddenly, the proposition of Felix removing the garment from his body made Chan’s stomach pinch.

****

Suddenly, he realizes that he won’t be missing his favorite hoodie very much if it goes missing again. 

****

He tightened his grip on Felix’s waist as slumber nipped at Chan’s mind, and subsequently overtook him. The darkness of Felix’s room is inky and weighty in the comforting sort of sense, and Felix’s chest is rising in and out like the tide. Chan is calm, and at peace, and enamoured. 

****

Does he smell love? Yes.

****

A thousand times, _yes._

**Author's Note:**

> can u tell i wrote this when lix had red hair lmao…..anyways, if u enjoyed kudos and stuff really help motivate and support me ❤️ also!!! the summer college course that's been keeping me from writing ended yesterday, i got an A on both my closing exams, and i'm ready to get back into writing babey!!! woohoo!! 
> 
> also...jisung sucking at mario kart is lowkey me projecting bc /i/ am Awful at mario kart lol...last time me and my friend group played together i legit came in last place twice in a row aksksksk this is so sad alexa play another day


End file.
